


The Great Pumpkin

by FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Friendship, Gen, Halloween, Kid!Rickyl, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rickyl Writers' Group, big brothers are jerks, vague references to drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 09:03:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12578304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN/pseuds/FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN
Summary: Rick Grimes and Daryl Dixon are childhood friends, and Halloween is quickly approaching.  Rick overheard the story of the Great Pumpkin one night when he was supposed to be sleeping, and he took it to heart as fact.  He's on a quest to prove it is real.





	The Great Pumpkin

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who do not know what the Great Pumpkin is, please google it. It's an adorable Charlie Brown movie that came out decades ago and is played on tv every year near Halloween. For the purposes of this story, let's assume it's roughly the 1970's, drug use is a bit rampant, children are impressionable, and I'm clearly going to hell for what I've written here. 
> 
> I do not condone the use of drugs by minors, especially 8 year old kids. More so when they have no idea that what they are consuming has drugs in it. I have kept it very vague within this story, but there are references to drugs and someone may or may not eat a pot brownie. 
> 
> This story was written in fun, and not meant to be offensive in any manner. However if you feel this story needs a few more tags, please feel free to let me know. I suck at tagging.

Rick Grimes, age 8, sat on the front stoop of his small brick home that he shared with his parents, two cats, and a scrappy Beagle named Spot.  In his lap was a wirebound notebook, and clutched in his fingers was a pencil. His tongue protruded from the corner of his mouth as he focused intently on the page before him, carefully writing out the words along the lines of the paper. Every few minutes he would stop and read what he wrote, erasing bits here and there, fixing his spelling or altering a word until his message was just right. His writing wasn’t the neatest, and his spelling was more phonetic than anything, but that didn’t stop him from completing this very important quest.

 

“What’re you doin’?”  

 

Rick looked up to see his neighbor from down the street hopping over the stone wall that lined the property. Daryl Dixon, he was a couple years older than Rick, but being the only two kids on the street, save for Daryl's older brother Merle, they gravitated to each other for play and entertainment.  Rick grinned at him, and replied,

 

“I’m writin’ my letter!” he proudly exclaimed.  “To the Great Pumpkin! Halloween is gonna be here before ya know it!”

 

“The Great Pumpkin? Have you been hanging out near Merle when he’s smokin’ them lil’ cigarettes?”

 

“What?” Rick frowned. “No, momma says I cain’t hang out with Merle no more. He’s a bad influence, she says. She didn’t like the stink his smoke left on my clothes when I played at your house the other day.”

 

“I don’t know why anybody would wanna hang out with him anyway. He’s an adult, he don’t do no fun kid stuff anymore…” Daryl mused, flopping down on the step beside Rick.

 

“Anyway, I wanted to finish this letter before Mom gets home. If I’m quick enough, I can get it in the mailbox before the postman comes.”

 

Daryl ran the edge of his thumb along his lower lip, letting his eyes rove over the words on the page.  He cocked his head thoughtfully, and then grabbed the notebook straight out of Rick’s hands.

 

“Hey! Gimme that back!”

 

“Hold on a second there, hoss.” Daryl replied, putting his hand on Rick’s face and shoving him back down while simultaneously holding the notebook at arm’s length and out of Rick’s reach.  “Ain’t told me what this Great Pumpkin business is all about.”

 

“Haven’t you heard about it? Every year on Halloween night, the Great Pumpkin rises from the pumpkin patch and delivers toys to  _ all _ the boys and girls in the world!”

 

Daryl snorted, shaking his head he tossed the notebook back into Rick’s lap.  “You sure you don’t got that mixed up with like Santy Claus or the Easter Bunny?”

 

“Uh-uh,” Rick shook his head adamantly.  “I was up past bedtime last night, and I heard the TV. And the person said that’s what happens on Halloween!”

 

“And you think everything you hear on TV is true?”

 

“Well… no? But like… the news is true, right? Maybe it was the evenin’ news or somethin’.”

 

Daryl hummed, “Then how come I ain’t never heard of this Great Pumpkin guy b’fore?”

 

“You ain’t got a TV, duh! And Daddy says ya only get the newspaper on Sundays so’s ya got somethin’ to start the fire with.”

 

“Momma does the crossword puzzle!” Daryl huffed, but it was true. They got the Sunday paper for the coupons and the funny pages, the rest went straight into the bin next to the woodstove.  Mr. Dixon was far too busy a man to sit down and read the newspaper cover to cover like Mr. Grimes did.  Too busy sleeping in his chair with a class of what looked like a funny colored sweet tea sitting on the side table nearby.  And Mrs. Dixon, though she rarely could be seen in anything more than a ratty nightgown and a worn pink robe, she would sit at the table smoking her cigarettes with a pencil in hand trying to complete the crossword puzzle.

 

“Hey, she’s having a good day. Was bakin’ some cookies earlier. If she ain’t too worn out, maybe she can explain this Great Pumpkin bull honky yer talkin’ ‘bout.”

 

“Cookies?” Rick's face lit up. Mrs. Grimes didn’t allow Rick to have sweets except on special occasions.  And Mrs. Dixon, she made the best chocolate chip oatmeal cookies, on days she was feeling good. Which were sadly an all too rare occurrence.  “For real?”

 

Daryl nodded, “Come on! Let’s get some before Merle gets home and eats them all!”  

 

The notebook was tossed aside and the two boys took off at a run across the grassy expanse of the Grimes front yard, hopping over the low stone wall, and zig zagging through the trees that dappled the Dixon property. The grass was high on this side of the stone wall, the Dixon’s not taking to the manicured styled lawns of their neighbors. But Rick knew it was because they didn’t have a lawn mower of their own.  The leaves rustled and crunched beneath their shoes, and little feet stomped up the aging wooden steps of the rickety porch.  The screech of the hinges on the screen door announced their arrival.  Rick breathed deep, the scent of baked cookies and cigarette smoke filling his nostrils and stretching his lips into a smile.  On the table was a plate heaped with cookies.  And a small paper bag beside it, with a single word written on it. Grimes.

 

Mrs. Dixon had been kind enough to set aside some for Rick, knowing how much the boy loved a sweet treat.  Sitting opposite them, with a mud covered boot propped on the edge of the table was none other than Merle Dixon.  His hand held a half dozen cookies in its grip, and he had half as many stuffed into his mouth. His other hand on a skin magazine, turning the page and grinning lasciviously at the scantily clad women that appeared there.

 

“Don’t eat all them cookies!” Daryl scolded, to which he received a middle finger salute from his older brother.  “Whatever. Where’s momma?”

 

“Gone to have a lie down in ‘er room, I suppose,” Merle answered.  “Why, what's it to ya?”

 

“Had an important question that needed answerin’,” Rick responded, beating Daryl to it. 

 

“Oh?” Merle asked, dropping his dirt clad boot to the floor and turning to look at Rick while simultaneously stuffing more cookies into his maw. “And what question might that be? Cuz ole Merle here happens to be an  _ expert _ on a variety of things.” He waggled his eyebrows, earning a frown from the two boys standing opposite him.

 

“Rick heard a thing-“

 

“The Great Pumpkin! It rises every Halloween and delivers toys all around the world! I heard it on the TV the other night, when I was supposed to be sleepin’ and-“

 

Merle burst out in a chuckle, slapping his hand down on the table.  “The Great Pumpkin? Fuck no, man you must be confused. Ain’t no fuckin’ pumpkins risin’ from no damn pumpkin patches to deliver you sorry shits some presents. Next yer gonna tell me Santa Claus is real and the Easter Bunny is responsible for shittin’ out chocolate for you brats to eat every spring?”

 

Rick looked to Daryl and then back at Merle.

 

“Santa Claus and this Easter Bunny  _ are _ real!” Rick growled, his small hands tightening to fists at his side.  

 

“Well, shit… hate to break it to ya pal, but yer momma and daddy been  _ lyin’  _ to ya, boy.  Ain’t no bunnies and ain’t no Santy Claus. That’s just some made up shit to get you fucktards to go to bed early so yer parents can bump uglies-“

 

“Merle! Gross!” Daryl yelled, sticking fingers into his ears. 

 

“It ain’t true!” Rick hollered, his face red with fury.  “They  _ are _ real and I’m gonna prove it!” He grabbed his bag of cookies off the table and stormed out of the dilapidated home, stomping angrily back toward his yard. Daryl jogged behind him to catch up, and he joined Rick back on the Grimes’ front stoop.

 

“Merle is  _ wrong _ ,” Rick insisted after a short while of silence.  “He’s just a stupid adult who don’t know anythin’!”

 

Daryl fiddled with the lace of his shoe, “Actually, he is ri-“

 

“No! He is NOT!” Rick shouted, grabbing his notebook and slamming it back down onto his lap. He took up his pencil once more and set it to paper, writing as quickly as his hands would allow.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Halloween arrived.  The Grimes dressed Rick in his chosen costume of the year, a Sheriff. Complete with a felt hat, gun belt, and a badge that he took to flashing at every person that passed him by.  Daryl joined them for trick-or-treating, decked out in a torn bedsheet, gently yellowed with age. He was the Ghost of Halloween Past, he claimed, with a shrug.  The Grimes allowed Rick and Daryl to walk ahead of them, giving the boys a sense of independence all the while keeping a watchful eye on them as well.

 

“I’m gonna do it,” Rick whispered, as they rounded the corner, the sidewalk taking them to the next street over.

 

“Do what?” Daryl asked, taking a step closer, dipping his head slightly so he didn’t miss a word.

 

“I got my sleeping bag. And I’m gonna go sit at Mr Greene’s pumpkin patch. After my parents go to bed! Daddy fixed the squeak on our back door, I can go out that way.”

 

“What? Yer gonna sleep in the pumpkin patch?” Daryl asked, his eyes growing wide. 

 

“Shhh,” Rick responded. “Yeah! You wanna come with me? More eyes to see the Great Pumpkin with!”   
  
“Uh, sure… I guess?  I don’t think it’s a smart idea, but-”

 

“Mom and Dad go to bed after the nighttime news.  Gonna wait until they’re asleep, meet ya at the patch about 11?”

 

Daryl frowned beneath his Ghost costume, but nodded along.  He knew this was a bad idea, and given Rick’s fear of the dark, it was going to be an interesting event, to say the least.  A short while later they ended up at the Dixon front porch.  The lights were out to deter trick-or-treaters, but the Grimes wanted to see Daryl safely home.  Merle met them on the porch, his face dimly lit by the cherry red glow of his cigarette.  Daryl waved to the Grimes, and disappeared inside to quietly gather his own sleeping bag without Merle knowing.  As Rick hopped down the steps, Merle called after him.

 

“Hey, shorty… don’t you want yer treat?’

 

“Huh?” Rick asked, turning around.  The Dixons never participated in Halloween treat giving.

 

“Here,” Merle reached into the pocket of his shirt, pulling out a small plastic bag and tossed it at Rick.  “A little something for you and that so called Great Pumpkin to enjoy.”  He snickered to himself, taking a long drag from his cigarette.

 

“Uh, thanks…”  Rick shoved it into the pocket of his slightly too large uniform, thinking it sweet that Mrs Dixon made him a little something for Halloween.  He walked on home with his parents, chattering away about how he couldn’t wait to dump out his bag of candy and see what kind of a haul he got this year.

 

After his evening bath and brushing his teeth for the third time, Rick was tucked snuggly into bed by his Mom.  Little did she know that tucked under his bed was his backpack, sleeping bag stuffed inside and a small flashlight in the front pocket.  He pulled a book from his bedside table and the treat from his pants pocket, and set to reading beneath his blanket with another flashlight, waiting to pass the time until his parents went off to bed themselves.  

 

“Brownies, yum!” He quietly said to himself, relishing in the chocolatey goodness. The flavor was a little off from what he was used to, but it was brownies.  And who didn’t love the chocolate baked confection?

 

He listened to the ticking of the clock in the hall, it soon chimed the hour, Ten.  Just when Rick’s eyes began to drift closed, he heard the rustle downstairs.  His parents were closing up for the night, a few moments later passing by his room into their own and closing the bedroom door.  This was it!  It was almost time!  

 

Quietly, Rick pushed back the covers.  Yanking off his pajamas, he put his clothes back on, and then sat down and waited.  His wait was blessedly short, the snores of his father let Rick know it was safe to move.  He grabbed his sleeping bag, picked up his shoes, and silently tip-toed down the stairs, through the kitchen to the back door and slipped outside.  He quickly donned his shoes, and took off at a slow job through the shadows down to the Greene Family Farm.  His watch showed the time of 10:50, Daryl would be along soon.  He weaved his way through the dying pumpkin vines, down the slope of the hill until he was just out of sight of the homes across the field.  He laid out his sleeping bag, and sat atop it.  

 

More waiting.  He looked at his watch periodically, and scanned the fields for any sign of movement.  Where was Daryl?  He promised to be there.  He folded his arms across his chest and scooted down, leaning back against his bag, staring out into the night sky.  The stars were unusually bright, in the nearly cloudless sky.  Glimmering their light down upon him.  The moon was nearly full, and if Rick reached his arm out just right, it felt like he could touch it.  He giggled to himself.  Touch the moon?  It was thousands upon thousands of miles away.  He rubbed his eyes, and sat up looking around again.  The trees were a looming presence down the slope from him, and for a moment, fear gripped his heart.   _ Just trees, silly.  No need to be paranoid. _

 

He settled back against his backpack.  The gentle night breeze blew across the fields, and the dried leaves on the vines rustled.  It sounded like footsteps but when Rick looked up and around, he saw no one.   _ Where the heck was Daryl?  It’s been hours! _  He looked at his watch again, only ten minutes had passed.  Gosh, his he was hungry.  That brownie hadn’t been enough and he felt like he needed a snack, or better yet another meal.  _ Where is Daryl... _ he wondered again.  He heard a car door slam in the distance.  Daryl wouldn’t have gotten a ride.   _ Probably just some teenagers out late _ , he thought to himself.  Hugging his knees to his chest, he rocked back and forth.  The chill was beginning to seep into his bone, and he shivered looking back again at the trees in the distance.  Branches reaching out toward him, to grab at his clothes and pull him in.  Rick’s eyes went wide, and goosebumps prickled his skin.   _ Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea… _

 

Foot steps.  He heard footsteps.  The crunch of leaves beneath slow heavy footsteps.

 

“Daryl?”  He called out in a loud whisper, “Daryl… is that you?”  He hovered down behind his backpack, peering over the edge.  The field darkened as an errant cloud floated in front of the moon, casting shadow across the pumpkin patch.  Rick was not a fan of the dark.  In fact, he found it frightening.  It was easy to be brave by the light of day and think he could do this, but now he doubted himself as he listened fearfully for more footsteps.  He trembled, there was no way he would last the night.  Great Pumpkin, be damned…  he rolled up his sleeping bag, and as he stuffed it into his sleeping bag he heard those foot steps again.  He turned, and footsteps quickened, running right towards him.  He stood, the hair on his neck standing on end, a scream ready to let slip from his throat as a huge being stormed toward him.  The body of a man, arms stretched wide, the head… a very large pumpkin with dark eyes and a toothy gaping maw.  An unearthly growl emitted from the mouth was all that was needed for Rick to let loose a scream and turn to run.  He tripped over the drying vines, and scrambled as fast as he could to get away.  He avoided the trees that wanted to reach out and grab him.  He flew past the thorns and briars that lined the end of the field, back out onto the street, feet thundering down the road at a breakneck pace.  Panting breaths, as he rounded the corner to his street, running smack into none other than Daryl Dixon.

 

“NO!  RUN, Daryl!  RUN!  It’s coming this way!”

 

“What who?” Daryl turned and ran alongside Rick.

 

“The Great Pumpkin!  IT’S REAL!  I SAW IT!”

 

They tore down the street over the stone wall and into Rick’s backyard to the relative safety of Rick’s back door.  He opened the door as quietly as he could, dragging Daryl in behind him and shutting it quickly, locking the deadbolt.

 

“Tell me what’s goin’ on!”  Daryl whispered, and Rick held up a finger, needing a moment to catch his breath.

 

“I went to the field… had my pack and sleepin’ bag.  I was waitin’ for you… but you never came.  I heard it, Daryl… footsteps.  I heard it comin’!  And then I looked up and there it was,  _ THE GREAT PUMPKIN! _ ”

 

“But it ain’t-”

 

“The Great Pumpkin is  _ real, _ ” RIck insisted.  “I saw it, it’s real.  Only the news got it wrong… He doesn’t bring toys.  He’s scary.  I think he eats  _ people _ .”

 

“Uh,”  Daryl scratched his head.  “How come we ain’t never heard of anybody gettin’ eaten on Halloween night?”

 

“I don’t know… maybe it’s a secret adults keep or something.  I know what I saw.  It’s real.”

 

“Okay,” Daryl nodded.  “Well, I ain’t about to go back and check it out myself. I’m gonna go home and back to bed.  Sorry, I fell asleep and missed the excitement.”

 

“It’s okay,” Rick said.  “Home safe, that’s all that matters.  I’m gonna have a snack and go to bed.  Wanna go to the park tomorrow?  See if the place got TP’d like last year?”

 

“Yeah!  Sounds cool.  Okay, see you tomorrow.”

 

Daryl let himself out quietly and Rick locked the door behind him.  Then he made himself a large sandwich, drank a tall glass of milk, and dug into the last of the turkey tetrazzini casserole his mother had made.  With a belch and a sigh, he was full.  Kicking off his shoes, he slipped back up the stairs to his room and slid beneath the covers.   _ I knew it was real _ … was his last thought before drifting off to sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Daryl arrived home to the sight of Merle on the front steps.  He was dressed in black, with a dark colored bed sheet tied around his neck like a cape.  He was wiping pumpkins seeds and detritus off his shoulders.

 

“What are you doin’?” Daryl asked, watching Merle suspiciously.

 

“Could be askin’ you the same, lil bro.  Kinda late for a do-gooder like you to be out.”

 

“Hm,”  Daryl huffed, and walked up the steps to the door.

 

“Hey,”  Merle called after him.  “Grimes kid left his stuff behind.”  He gestured to Rick’s backpack and sleeping bag sitting by the door.  “Bet that special brownie he ate made his Great Pumpkin experience a more  _ interesting _ one…”

 

“You’re a real jerk, you know that?”

 

Merle burst out in a hearty laugh as he pulled the sheet off his shoulders and tossed it aside.  “Thank you,” he called out after Daryl, who had stepped inside the door.  “Been called a lot worse...  Hey, wanna help me TP the park?  Truck’s loaded and ready!”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> It's been awhile since I have posted anything, writer's block is wicked, and I hope this fic wasn't a dreadful read. Happy Halloween, all!


End file.
